


The Hero of Ferelden (Warden)

by Brackenfrond



Series: An Issue of Titles [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: (Do I write smut? Dare I post smut?), Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Light Angst, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Rating May Change, TW at start of relevant chapter, because tags are hard, following Origins gameplay, mostly at the start, or three wardens instead of two? whatever, playing fast and loose with lore, regarding the circle, that one is very important to me, two wardens instead of one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:33:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29543115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brackenfrond/pseuds/Brackenfrond
Summary: Taken from one hell into another, Cassia Amell had barely survived the Circle and now has to survive the trials of being a Grey Warden. Easier said than done, considering the Blight on their doorstep, and the fact that almost everyone believes they have committed regicide.For her first trip outside the Circle...it's...pretty bad.Add in the fact that her best friend poisoned an arl, the Circle falling apart, the werewolves harrassing the Dalish and the current fight over the crown in Orzammar, gathering an army isn't going to be easy. And that's not including dealing with her past, the fears she would rather forget...This is going to be so much harder than she thought.
Relationships: (Not huge though), Female Amell/Anders (Dragon Age), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Zevran Arainai/Male Cousland, one sided Female Amell/Cullen Rutherford
Series: An Issue of Titles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2170467
Kudos: 2





	The Hero of Ferelden (Warden)

Cassia wished that her first time out of the circle hadn’t been to join a group of famous warriors, mostly because the reason for said recruitment had been because of Jowan.

To cut a very long story short - Jowan had wanted to run off with his beloved, a girl called Lily, and Cassia was a hopeless romantic. So she’d helped, only to discover the rumours about Jowan, her best friend, being a blood mage, were actually true.

The fact he’d run off after? Left Cassia to the wolves? That...that had stung.

That led to her current position, in the fortress that was Ostagar, waiting for the rest of the warden recruits to show up. She’d met two already, a Ser Jory and Daveth, one a noble and the other a thief. Apparently there was also a fourth recruit, who was finding the warden who would accompany them into the Korcari Wilds.

Maybe she wasn’t supposed to know they were going into the wilds, but still. It appeared as if Daveth put his rogue skills to use and had used them to eavesdrop on Duncan’s conversation with his protege. In her honest opinion, if Daveth could hear what Duncan and the other warden were discussing, they obviously weren’t trying hard enough to keep...whatever it was they were supposed to be doing a secret. It made Cassia twitchy - and she was twitchy enough as it was. Despite being out of the tower, being  _ allowed _ out of the tower, she felt as though the Templars stationed at Ostagar were constantly eying her, as though waiting for her to transform into an abomination the first second they diverted their eyes.

She felt less scrutinised near the fire Duncan was close to, and hadn’t ventured too far from it. She knew Duncan, though less than she would like - he hadn’t been the one to sweep her away from the tower, another had done that, then pawned her off on him like a ring that had lost its shine - and it felt safer to be around the Warden, so at least he could call out a Templar if one tried anything. Cassia may have not experienced the harsher punishments in the Circle, but she had come close to it, and on the eve of battle she wouldn’t expect Templars to be too picky about who they celebrated their last night with. And with mages...well, there was some ingrained tendency to obey. Just in case. It shouldn’t matter now, was the thing, but she still felt her palms sweat when she saw the familiar armour, dug her nails into the meat of her palm to hide the fact they were trembling.

Though she was the first person there, it didn’t take long for Daveth and Ser Jory to join her and Duncan, and maybe Cassia shifted from her once casual lean against a pillar to one more defensive, ready to attack if need be. She wasn’t sure if she trusted them, yet, and they were men and not mages. It didn’t set off alarm bells, not yet, and her staff was on clear display, but she knew what the Chantry said about mages, and wasn’t sure if she trusted them to not regard her with disdain. 

A few minutes later, two more men joined them and Cassia resisted the urge to groan. Was she the only woman here? Apparently. She hadn’t met these two yet, and took a second to catalogue their appearances, mannerisms, something ingrained after the Circle - know a face, know a mannerism, know that the male apprentice with the red hair couldn’t use fire magic for shit, or that the female mage with brown hair and too pale skin hated herself because of magic. Know that the blonde Templar with golden eyes had a soft spot for you, could probably keep you safe but could also be a danger.

The warrior was darker skinned than the others, except from her and Duncan, both who had very dark skin. His hair was messy, dirty blonde, and he had stubble. His eyes were brown, surprisingly light, but it still made Cassia with her too bright eyes feel odd. Dark skin and dark hair usually meant dark eyes, and she had wondered, when she was younger and staring at her reflection, if her proficiency in light blue healing magic and the vibrant violet of her lightning affected eye colour. A silly notion, but it would explain the unusual colouring, if nothing else.

The second was slighter, another rogue judging from the bow and quiver slung across his shoulder. So, not only was she the only woman, but also the only mage. She wasn’t looking forward to this - though, truth be told, Cassia hadn’t been looking forward to this since she’d stepped out of the tower. His hair was brown, curling slightly at the ends, pulled back out of his face in a messy braid, and her fingers itched to undo it and make it look neater. His eyes were a vibrant, forest green, but suited him much better than Cassia’s eyes suited her - his skin was pale, though he had a few freckles dusting his skin, a testament that he had actually ventured outside in the sun.

Cassia assumed he was a noble - his clothing looked finer than Daveth’s, and the way he held himself spoke tons about his upbringing. About how he was allowed to be seen and heard and taken seriously. She was a little jealous, a little bitter, and hated herself a little for it. She didn’t even know the man, never mind enough to judge him.

“I see you’ve found Alistair.” Duncan’s voice was warm when he spoke to the man. “And these are your fellow recruits - Daveth, Ser Jory and Cassia.” The man was quiet, though looked startled at Cassia’s name. His eyes gave her a once over, lingering a little on her eyes and her staff, before nodding slightly.

“Mercutio.” Maker’s Breath, but he sounded exhausted, and once again Cassia felt her fingers twitch with the sudden urge to cast a spell - healing or rejuvenation or something, to clear up the bags under his eyes, to knit together the cut on his cheek. She hated the sudden swell of sympathy rising in her chest, fluttering against her ribs like a caged butterfly.

“I assume you’re ready to begin - that is, if you’ve finished riling up the mages, Alistair?” Duncan’s gaze turned to the other man, who shrugged almost helplessly.

“What can I say, the Revered Mother ambushed me.” He shot back. “The way she wields guilt, they should stick her in the army.”

“You don’t know wielding guilt until you’ve spoken to one in the Circle.” Cassia piped up

“I bet.” Alistair flashed a brilliant smile, before turning to Duncan.

“So she asked you to sass the mage?” Duncan raised an eyebrow, and Alistair looked suitably chastised.

“...No. I know it was a bad call. I...apologise.”

“What’s done is done - but now we are all here, we can begin.” Duncan started. “You shall be going into the Korcari Wilds, to complete two tasks for me.” Cassia resisted the very real urge to let out a slightly hysterical laugh. Was he insane? The Korcari Wilds, which were very likely swarming with Darkspawn? He was...he had to be joking, right?

Apparently not.

They were told they had to gather enough Darkspawn blood to fill four vials - one for each recruit - and then retrieve some documents left in an old Grey Warden outpost. Cassia was seriously regretting being so eager to follow Duncan out of the tower.

“Look after your charges, Alistair, and return quickly and safety.”

“Don’t worry, we will.” Alistair turned his smile on Duncan, before turning to the four. “Well, we should set off before we lose daylight.”

XoooX

They had barely entered the Wilds when they first met a fight, but fortunately it was not against Darkspawn.

“Wolves.” Daveth had drawn his knives, and Cassia heaved a heavy sigh.

“Great.” She muttered. “I’ve dealt with spirit wolves before. Nasty buggers. I’m guessing real ones are just as bad.”

“Worse, because they’re physical.” Mercutio notched an arrow, firing it and Daveth darted forward, joining Jory and Alistair in cutting through the pack. Cassia let out a sigh, and with a flick of her hand covered the three with a barrier, laying down a paralysis glyph just before a particularly large one could leap and attack either of the long distance fighters. She froze it easily, shattering it with a blow from her staff. Mercutio let out an impressed whistle. “Thought you were a healer?”

“Primarily.” Cassia corrected, focusing on keeping up barriers, casting rejuvenation on the fighters as well as a quick healing spell when Alistair took a particularly nasty looking bite to his arm. Seemed even Grey Wardens were susceptible to canine bites. That wolf was taken down with an arrow from Mercutio, and Daveth let out a yell of ‘don’t steal my kills’! “Steal a kill?”

“I used to do it all the time with my brother. Annoyed him something fierce.” There was something sad in Mercutio’s voice, and Cassia didn’t push, as the three melee fighters returned to them, soaked in blood. Cassia frowned.

“How much of that is yours?”

“Not a lot.” Alistair glanced at his arm, the flesh stitched together, and grinned. “Thanks for the healing.”

“Just doing my job.” Cassia waved it off. “Well? Shall we?”

It wasn’t long until they met the last survivor of a scouting party. He was surrounded by carts, overturned and looted, the animals used to pull them dead, flies buzzing around the corpses.

“Who...is…” The man didn’t manage to get any words out, gasping for breath, and Cassia immediately kneeled down beside him, raising a hand and allowing her magic to stitch together torns skin, halt bleeding. Not as neatly as she would have liked, but better than nothing - he was breathing, and anything else would surely be fixed with more mundane methods.

“Bandages.” The word was curt, and she held out a hand. The strips of cloth were handed over near immediately, and it took little to no time to tie them about the wounds not completely healed. “There. That should keep you together long enough to make it back to camp.”

“Thank you.” He got to his feet unsteadily, and Cassia took the offered hand from Mercutio and he pulled her to her feet. She swayed slightly, the effort of closing wounds getting to her. She fumbled about in the pockets of her coat, pulled out a small vial of lyrium, uncorked it and downed the lot. The world stopped spinning, so she felt less like she was going to vomit or pass out. “My entire party was attacked by darkspawn. Should be no match for Grey Wardens, but I -”

“Go back to camp.” Alistair said, and the man set off eagerly.

“Did you hear that? An entire scouting party, killed by darkspawn.” Jory hissed, eyes a little wild.

“Calm down. As long as we’re careful, we’ll be fine.” Alistair said, but the knight’s eyes flickered to where the man had once laid, the blood congealing in the long grass.

“Those men were careful, and look what happened to them! They’re dead.” Jory managed. “I’m no coward, but this is foolish. We are fo - five men strong. What chance do we stand?” Cassia noticed the hasty change of word, and resisted the urge to shock him.

“You do understand that, as a warden, our job will be to kill darkspawn, yes?” She said instead, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms. “This is part of our test, to prove we’re ready, willing and able. If you don’t wish to do this, go back to camp and join the other members of the army - I’m sure we’ll be perfectly fine, nevertheless.”

“And we are in no danger of walking into the hoarde.” Alistair added, voice soothing and Cassia caught the corner of Mercutio’s lips kicking up into a smile. “As a warden, I can sense the darkspawn, and they will not take us by surprise.”

“Hear that, ser knight? We might die, but we’ll at least be warned about it before.” Daveth said cheerily, and Cassia rolled her eyes. Men.

“And I am a Spirit Healer - as long as you don’t go charging off into battle without informing me, the likelihood of you getting killed will be little to none. I can cast barriers, rejuvenation and all that. You’ll be fine.”

“And you’re a dab hand with ice spells, too.” Mercutio added, Cassia managed a grin that was very toothy.

“You haven’t seen my lightning, yet - my speciality.”

“A mage is always useful, especially if they’re actually a decent person.” Alistair stated. “But we shouldn’t dally - let’s get a move on.”

And so they did. The Korcari Wilds was not at all nice - Cassia thought she could feel bad magic, but that was probably just because her boots kept sticking in the mud, and the smell of blood - rusty and tangy and cloying - was filling her with a sense of foreboding. And then, they met the darkspawn.

Cassia wasn’t expecting anything good from them, and anything she’d read regarding darkspawn didn’t include illustrations. Now she knew why.

They were hideous and would surely haunt her dreams henceforth - the worst part was that they looked vaguely humanoid, until you got close enough to the discoloured flesh, the ugly grimacing grin of too sharp teeth. They looked infected, as Cassia supposed they were in a way, but unable to be healed, cleansed, and it left a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

It did, however, give her a chance to show off a little - they had met an emissary, a darkspawn capable of using magic, and Cassia had engaged it in battle. It seemed to make sense, mage on mage, and Alistair had let out an admiring whoop when Cassia did what she did best and shocked the thing with the biggest lightning bolt she could manage, catching another darkspawn in the ensuing chaos. She had to send off a quick barrier towards Daveth, who was darting about a small group of genlocks, before taking the emissary down with an arcane bolt.

They had to have collected enough darkspawn blood at this point, and even if they hadn’t, they could just scrape the remains off of Alistair’s armour and have enough for at least another two vials. Fighting, it seemed, was messier than Cassia had expected, although she had remained mostly untouched apart from a splatter across her shoulder and cheek when one had gotten too close and Mercutio had used a knife to slice it’s throat. Alistair had taken down a darkspawn he called an alpha with surprising ease, and Daveth and Jory had taken down a good few themselves.

It was only when they reached the ruins of the Warden outpost where they encountered any real issue.

“There was definitely a seal on the box. I can feel the remnants.” Cassia tilted her head slightly at the destroyed cache. “Obviously, they wore off.”

“Which means the treaties are gone.” Alistair sighed heavily. “Well, that puts a damper on things.”

“Do we have any way to track them? Magical means?” Mercutio asked Cassia, who shook her head.

“No. I wish so, but the signature is faint enough, and I never paid much attention when it came to tracking magical signatures. Spirit healer, remember?”

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Instantly the group turned as one, Cassia muttering under her breath and setting up barriers around her companions.

The voice came from a woman, wearing what looked to be a hastily pieced together outfit - not necessarily the most practical, and Cassia was immediately grateful for the fact she had traded the Circle issued robes (terrible for battle, she had laughed at Jowan many a time for tripping over the hem of his own back at the Circle) for a pair of brown leggings, a slightly too long blue tunic and sturdy boots. She would have liked something maybe warmer, purely because she hadn’t realised how cold it truly was outside the tower in Ferelden, but the woman looked perfectly content while wearing a few strips of cloth instead of a tunic. Cassia desperately wanted to wrap her up in a cloak, but figured that wouldn’t be appreciated. She mentally catalogued the yellow eyes, the dark hair, the paint on her eyes that looked more like war paint than the shadow some of the older Circle mages wore on their lids. Chasind, Cassia realised with a start, and then her eyes locked on the staff.

An apostate Chasind.

Cassia had never met a mage who wasn’t part of the Circle before, but she felt her fingers curl tight around her staff anyway. She’d heard stories, vicious and barbaric, usually summoning demons or using blood magic liberally. They were heretics, abandoning the laws put into place by the Chantry, and this woman must be one of them.

It was, despite being almost terrifying, fascinating.

“Are you vultures, I wonder?” The woman continued speaking, walking about them without a care in the world. Her eyebrow twitched up, and her eyes flickered to Cassia, meeting her own violet ones. The side of her mouth quirked up in a tiny smirk, and Cassia felt like she was sharing a secret that only the Chasind woman knew, that Cassia was not yet privy to. “Scavengers, picking over the bones that were long ago cleaned? Or merely intruders, coming into my Wilds in search of easy prey? Well?”

“Be careful, she looks Chasind.” Alistair hissed.

“How, exactly, are the Wilds yours?” Mercutio’s tone was airy, as though he held no concern, but Cassia had spent long enough cataloguing people to know he was ready to spring to action if need be, his hand resting at his hip almost casual, if not for the way his fingers twitched towards the knife there. “I believe that they belong to no one.”

“Does anyone know the Wilds better than one who lives there?” She said, her eyes scanning the group coolly. “If you come for the tower, which I assume is the case, it has long ago been claimed by the Wilds. I have been watching you for some time, since you ventured into the Wilds. ‘Where do they go’ I wondered, ‘why are they here’, and it appears I have found my answer.”

“If she is Chasind, others may be nearby.” Alistair murmured, and the woman laughed.

“You fear barbarians shall swoop down upon you?” Her tone was mocking, and Alistair’s lips curled slightly.

“Yes. Swooping is bad.”

“She’s a Witch of the Wilds, she is!” Daveth’s voice was high and nervous. “She’ll turn us all into toads, she will!”

“Such idle fantasy - have you no minds of your own?” She leaned forward, placing her staff in front of her and using it as a mockery of a walking stick. Golden eyes stared at Cassia. “I see another mage among your group - tell me your name and I shall tell you mine. We can be civilised.”

“You can call me Cassia.” Cassia didn’t hesitate in answering, seeing no open hostility. More so wariness about the woman, which Cassia understood completely. Even if none of the men with her were Templars, there was that constant itch in the back of her mind that they could send her back to the Circle where the sunburst brand was waiting, that even if she trusted Mercutio more than the others, he was still noble. He still listened to the Chantry’s words and trusted them. That she did not belong. “I wish I could say it was a pleasure to meet you, but my boots are covered in mud and I’m far too cold for it to be pleasurable.” The woman did laugh at that.

“At least you attempted to find manners instead of instantly falling into the idle fancy of Witches of Wilds.” She said. “You may call me Morrigan. Let me guess you purpose - you seek whatever was once in that chest, however it is here no longer.”

“‘Here no longer’? You stole them, didn’t you!” Alistair jumped to accuse immediately and Cassia felt Mercutio’s heavy sigh.

“You can’t steal something that no one has, Alistair.” He said lightly. “Cassia said the wards had worn off long ago - I suppose that if she took them, she has kept them safe?”

“‘Twas my mother who found them.” Morrigan said, voice flippant. “If they belong to you, as you claim, I am sure that she will happily return them.”

“Can you take us to her, if you would be so kind as to guide us through the Wilds?” Cassia asked. “Preferably avoiding any bogs.”

“A sensible request, as to be expected from a woman.” Morrigan said, and now Cassia got the slight smile - a slight show of solidarity, amongst the only women with magic surrounded by men who couldn’t even begin to understand the difficulties both went through, even if in different capacities. One hiding to stay free, and one who had never been so. “I like you.”

“Careful, first it’s I like you and then -'' Alistair cut himself off by waggling his fingers in a mimicry of magic. “Frog time.” Mercutio snorted loudly in amusement, which seemed to aggravate Daveth more.

“She’ll put us all in the pot, just you watch!”

“You all have ridiculous views on what apostates can do, and you have been travelling with a mage this entire time.” Cassia pointed out, resisting the very tempting urge to roll her eyes. “And hey, if we’re in a pot, at least we’ll be warmer.”

“Right you are.” Mercutio nodded at Cassia, before turning to Morrigan. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Morrigan. You may call me Mercutio - we will gladly follow your lead, either to the documents we seek, or to your pot.”

XoooX

Morrigan did not lead them into a bog, nor into a pot as Daveth had feared, but to a small hut situated in the depths of the Wild, where they were greeted by an old woman.

Cassia could immediately tell that she was Morrigan’s mother, even if they had not been told that was who they were being taken to, because they shared the same gold eyes and similar nose shape. Despite the wrinkles that showed her old age, the tangled grey hair, Cassia knew that the woman would have been as beautiful as Morrigan when she was younger.

“Mother, I bring you five Grey Wardens, who -”

“I see them, girl.” The older woman cut off Morrigan easily, eyes scanning them curiously. “Much as I expected.” Alistair snorted.

“Are we supposed to believe you were expecting us?” He sounded derisive, but Cassia cast her mind back to studies that she probably shouldn’t have been reading in the Circle, but did so late at night, conjuring wisps for light and poring over passages of Rivaini seers under her covers. They allowed spirits to possess them, conversed with them in a way that was seen as blasphemous, but had been fascinating in a morbid sort of way. Spirit healers were vaguely similar in the conversing aspect, though they summoned spirits from the fade who healed on their behalf, but never had Cassia met someone who may actually maintain a deeper connection to spirits which was not used to enhance their magic. Though being a spirit healer was dangerous, and earned mistrust from Templars due to their connection to spirits, never had Cassia thought to converse with the spirits she met there, beyond gauging whether they were benevolent or not.

She wondered, absently, if this woman conversed with spirits like compassion or valour, or if her predilection lay with demons like pride and rage, before deciding she’d rather not know.

“She’s a witch, we shouldn’t be talking to her!” Daveth protested, his fear evident in his voice, and Jory elbowed him hard in reprimand.

“Shut up! If she is a witch, we shouldn’t make her angry!”

“There’s a smart lad.” The woman said, a scary sort of serene smile playing about her lips. “Sadly, irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. Who else do we have here? A noble son, scrabbling to find his place, and a young mage, pretending she is not afraid of the men around her, unknowing of the role they both will play. But that is not important right now, no.”

“What are you -” Mercutio’s alarmed comment was cut off by the woman again, and Cassia shuddered at Alistair’s look of concern at the comment made about her.

“You want your treaties, don’t you?” She turned, entered the hut, and returned with scrolls of parchment. “And before you cry about how I stole them, your seal wore off long ago - though I suspect you have been told that - and I have protected them since.”

“You...oh.” Alistair blinked, and Mercutio took the scrolls and placed them in his bag carefully.

“You may also wish to inform your leaders that this threat is greater than they realise.” She said, her voice delicate.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mercutio’s eyes narrowed.

“That this threat is more or they realise less. Or perhaps the threat is nothing, or perhaps they realise nothing.” She laughed, and Cassia was certain this woman was either insane or much more dangerous than she seemed. Cassia was leaning towards the latter - some things she had said rattled her deeper than even the Templars in their shiny, clanking armour had. “But don’t mind me, you have what you came for.”

“Time for you to go then.” Morrigan looked quite relieved to have a reason to see them go, but the woman stopped her from retreating into the hut.

“Don’t be ridiculous, girl, these are your guests.”

“Oh, very well.” Morrigan heaved a very put upon sigh. “I will lead you out of the woods. Follow me.” And she walked on, leaving the group to catch up with her.

Cassia thought she could feel the eyes of the Witch of the Wild’s boring into her back until she was out of sight, but maybe that was paranoia.

‘Unknowing of the role they will play’, Cassia thought, and if she stuck closer to Mercutio’s side on the way back, and if when he offered her his hand, she took it like a frightened child - well, that was between them, and Alistair who kept offering them concerned looks, like he, too, knew that the woman they had just met was more powerful than he had originally thought.

**Author's Note:**

> I HATE OSTAGAR SO MUCH.  
> I have a habit of hating game intros, which is why it was easier to write DA2 first because I just skipped the intro and got straight into meeting Anders. But I’m actually going to attempt this write in order now, so here goes nothing.  
> These chapters are going to be longer from here on in most likely - a quest a chapter I'm aiming for, which will include interludes and personal quests. I’m going to follow the order I usually play the game through, but I am adding in some of my gameplay mods because I have earlier Zevran encounter and honestly? I love Zevran, I like writing him, and if I can add him in sooner than canonically then I will. Besides, I usually chuck canon into the bin when writing fanfic.  
> Once we get past Ostagar, updates will possibly be quite quick, but it depends on inspiration and attention and also other fic writing but I desperately want to get to a point where we explore more character relationships, I play about with personal quests and - finally - the next game which is where things get really fun.  
> Anyway, enjoy, like, favourite, whatever you feel like - Jazz xx


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